Playing with Fire
by Vampire Catfish1
Summary: Francis is a famous film director who believes that everyone deserves love. Never turning anyone down, he openly loves anyone who wants or desires him. Allie, a stuntwoman who's complete distrust of people has lead her to treat them as things, is convinced that real love doesn't exist, and that her over-whelming attraction to her blond client is just a passing fancy.


Love was never planned. Francis was a repeat offender when it came to falling suddenly and passionately in love, but it only ever lasted a night. Though he felt a small obligation to the men and women he took to his bed, the wild need that captured him when they first met would usually fade until they were left with a longing that Francis could never fulfil.

To save them from the pain that hope brought, he would do nothing more than kiss them goodbye and treasure their night as a fond memory. Apart from his first love, he had never felt the desire to truly be with someone, preferring to believe that love should be shared rather than selfishly devoted.

Though he enjoyed the pursuit, wooing his lovers with promises of a night they would always remember, he never turned someone down if they offered. He was very accustomed to learning to fall in love with a person who looked to him for happiness.

He was content, the men and women he loved were satisfied, and his life moved on in a lazy routine of fascination and disappointment when his brand of love faded yet again.

He was a firm believer in his system. No matter how strong his desire to hold someone he knew he would be let down in the end. So he preferred to spend the night bathing in lust to prevent further pain when the inevitable happened.

It was on the eighth day of filming that he met her. The second stunt crew had arrived and Francis was hiding his nervousness at working with a new team. The original crew had clashed with the lead actor, resulting in a falling out that would only be resolved by firing either the lead actor or the team. Both options would foster regret, but he had no choice as the sponsors had only come forward on the condition that he played the lead.

The films always reflected Francis's desires when it came to the romance. Red-heads weren't normally part of his palate but there had been issues with the lead actress insisting she was allergic to hair dye. He was usually very firm when it came to how his characters were portrayed, but he had no real attachment to the heroine this time and so he let her be.

Her character was meant to be a gentle blonde with a loving personality and endless kindness that anyone could fall for. The type that made men want to protect, to love gently and a woman who would make the perfect wife. But the change of hair colour gave her an extra edge that, when added to the scene where she clutched to the heroes back as he drove through the city, made everything seem so much more dramatic.

Which was why he needed the team. One man for the hero and a woman for the damsel in distress who would be thrown from the back of the motorbike as it swerved suddenly, as well as four other men who would ultimately end up lying among the flaming ruins of bullet-riddled cars.

But as Francis was introduced to the woman who would be taking the lead actress's place, he had to stop himself from drawing in a sharp breath. The darkened studio shadowed her face, but even in the dim light he could see she was gorgeous. He was so absorbed in her, drinking in the sight of 5"9 inches of tight curves smoothed with leather, that he missed her name.

Her body relaxed, she stood comfortably chatting with a man next to her, only nodding to show she'd acknowledged their presence when her boss introduced her. Her body still turned away from them, her hands stuffed in the pockets of her jacket, she flicked him a look as if he was barely on her radar. It was only when her boss put his arm around her and forced her to present herself properly that she took notice of him.

He watched her, entranced as her raw gaze slid down to his outstretched hand before pulling back up to his eyes. "Bonjour." She almost purred, her lips wrapping around the syllables and curving into a smile when she took his hand in her calloused palm. Her fingers stole over his and he tried to ignore the heat that licked at his crotch. Just thinking about the things she could do with those rough hands would get him hard in an instant, and so he gave her a polite nod, trying to act calm as he quickly blurted out his name, only to receive an amused snort and an "I know" in return.

Before he could ask her for her name again Francis was ushered along, but all he could think about was her shock of red hair and the laughter in those off-green eyes sparked with gold. He planned to go back and ask her when the introductions were over, but she was swept away to run through the scene with the rest of her men. All he was left with was his hand craving for her touch, his heart in his mouth and his cock on fire.

She was full of hard lines and taunt muscle, and as he watched her walk away all he could think of was how good it would be to feel her thighs flex as slowly pushed her legs apart, watch her back curve as he savoured her taste and see her chest heave as his name escaped her lips in a light gasp.

* * *

><p>Allie knew the moment she saw him that she was going to eat him up. She didn't fuck men, especially the ones who felt they were entitled to dominate her just because they had a cock dangling between their legs. And though she adored women, she despised the fact that many of them expected her to do all the work. She liked her men pretty and in need of a good scar or two to remind them that not everyone wanted to be loved. And Francis was one of them. He looked too gentle, too desperate to please, and she could imagine that he would do everything he could to have her shuddering beneath his touch as he whispered sweet words of love in her ear.<p>

As she did with all the directors, she'd looked him up the night before and was pleasantly surprised to find that the Frenchman was nothing short of delicious. Long hair that framed a handsome face, just pretty enough to have any girl falling to his feet.

But looking at him now, the pictures barely did him justice. Articles claiming he should be on the big screen rather than behind it, that his personality was perfect for show-business and that his dress sense should have him modelling part-time at least didn't see how lethal he was in his own environment. A casual shirt, loose trousers and hair tied back to show his lickable jaw, he was a walking orgasm. One that Allie fully intended to ride.

She made a rule to herself that no-one would be more than a cheap lay so that her heart could never be taken again. Her teenage self had believed in true love and all that crap, resulting in her first time being with a farmer's kid who claimed he had loved her at first sight. At fourteen, it made her realise how easily people lied to get what they wanted.

Allie had her revenge, of course, but her guard had been up ever since and she didn't want to admit that the director with the interested eyes and the body big enough to handle hers was more than stroking her need to play.

She wanted him, and wasn't afraid to accept that, but as she walked away from him, trying to absorb herself in her work, she was flooded with a desire that left her nipples hard and her pussy tingling. When his eyes bore down on her she had to wonder how good it would feel to spread him out beneath her and feel his accented moan as she rode him. She'd fantasised before, but never so vividly and never with such a need. They had barely exchanged ten words with each other and yet she was already craving him. It pissed her off for no reason other than that she would find her gaze wandering to him the moment she was distracted.

She knew she was sexy as hell and knew that half the men in the room wanted to lay her down and fuck her the moment she stepped through those doors. It was why she wore tight leather pants and boots that could crush a man's skull if she put her mind to it. That, coupled with the white shirt that clung to her breasts and gave what she hoped was a vague hint of professionalism, showed off exactly what they would be getting if they chose to take her on. Usually she would fling on a fiery red bra that pushed through the thin shirt just to watch them squirm, but this was her first big job and the director had a reputation for being one of the good ones.

She liked to feel wanted, loved to feel needed, and if she could make men turn into a stuttering mess who's eyes couldn't leave her chest then all the better.

But the director was smooth as brass, staring only at her eyes and not in the forceful way most men did when they were trying to stop themselves from ogling. She wanted to stir him up, drive him wild, leaving him breathless until just the thought of her touch had him weak at the knees. She could only think on how exciting it would be to have him at her mercy and to break that perfect exterior.

Allie would wait. They had a week to work together, time enough to let her wind him up and see what he could have. Just because she wanted to fuck like rabbits didn't mean the Francis felt the same. And if she rushed it, then there was a chance he would want to do normal things like date.

Besides, there was nothing funner than winding up her prey until he was the one pouncing on her.


End file.
